Defaced
by CharcoalPen
Summary: She would never forget the moment when she awoke for the first time since the tragedy. With no recollection of who she is save for a single clue, the young woman must find her way through the ink-infested animation studio and discover the secrets of the past. Somehow, she is connected to the strange place. Who is she really? Rated T for violence in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

She would never forget the moment when she awoke for the first time since the tragedy.

The very first thing she sensed was the tart smell of ink. She felt a cool heaviness enveloping her body, covering her like a sheet. She heard a faint dripping sound, its piercing echo rhythmically cutting through the silence.

She opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of a wooden, cobweb-covered ceiling. She attempted to sit up, but this proved to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. Her body ached all over, as if she'd just come out of a boxing match. What's more, she looked down at her white gloved hands and saw that they were stained with pure black ink. Upon further inspection, she realized that splotches of ink coated her entire form- her bell-sleeved white dress, her arms and legs, and even her black shoes.

As she sat up, the ink began to drip off of her into puddles. She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead, which felt slightly warm but not dangerously so. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. She was surrounded by six wooden walls which formed a cramped room. She sat in the middle of four candles, which seemed to be the only source of light. Against the wall behind her leaned two cobweb-covered coffins, and to her right stood a small desk atop which sat some pieces of paper and a bottle of ink. Ahead of her there was an opening leading to some kind of hallway, but it was blocked by a jumble of wooden boards that appeared to be stuck in the doorway. To her left, there was a closed door. The entire place reeked of ink and old parchment paper.

From the looks of it, no one had set foot in here in a long time.

The girl struggled to remember how she got here, but found she couldn't. She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered. She attempted to recall something; anything from her past. She tried desperately to come up with a memory from her childhood, perhaps of her parents or even her own name. Nothing. She didn't have a clue who she was.

Everything she knew was gone. Everything she remembered had vanished, faded away into the distant past.

Shakily, she got to her feet. Taking a closer look at the spot where she stood, she realized something: she was standing on what appeared to be a pentagram drawn in ink. It was somewhat smeared now, but still distinguishable.

 _What in the world is going on?_

She felt an eerie chill pass through her as she stared down at the pentagram. After a few seconds, she forced herself to look away. She carefully stepped over one of the candles and moved off of the ominous marking. Her shoes made a distinct clicking sound every time they touched the floor, and the floor creaked wherever she stepped.

The girl approached the door and tried the handle experimentally. Not surprisingly, it didn't budge. After scanning the room again and determining that the boarded up hallway and the door were indeed the only exits, she decided to approach the desk. As she drew closer, she noted that the pieces of paper she'd observed on the desk were drawings.

Curious, she picked up one and examined it. It was a hand-drawn sketch of a grinning character with pie-cut eyes a head that curved into two points at the top, like horns. He was dressed in black except for his white gloves and bow tie at his neck. At the top of the page was a single word: "Bendy."

 _Bendy…_

Why did that name sound so familiar?

The girl stared at the character on the page, the word echoing in her mind. The little face seemed to stare back at her, its toothy smile and lifeless, black eyes looking eerie in the dim light. She found her mind wandering. She felt as if she were stumbling through the darkness in search of something. Something that was right there, but just out of her grasp.

Slowly, she began to recall what must have been a memory.

* * *

It was chilly in the animation studio. The heater was broken, as it often was, and the wintery air from outside was seeping in through the cracks in the wooden walls. But she didn't mind- she loved being there all the same.

She sat at a desk in a large room with posters lining the walls and no creepy coffins or pentagrams. She couldn't make out what was on the posters, but she somehow knew that they were related to the cartoons that were made in the studio.

The girl looked up as the door opened and a man walked into the room. His features were not defined at all, as if he himself were just a preliminary sketch that hadn't been finalized.

She could, however, make out a smile on his face as he approached her. "There you are, my little princess. I've been looking for you."

Then the girl spoke in a high-pitched, childish voice. "Papa, I can't wait for the new movie! Please show me some of your sketches!"

The man chuckled. It was a gruff sort of sound. "Well, only if you promise not to tell anyone. It's barely an idea, and I don't want it getting out. I haven't even told my crew about it yet. In fact, I've only just finished drawing the main character."

He handed the child a piece of paper, which she took eagerly and held in her delicate fingers. Her wide eyes stared down at it like it was a piece of chocolate cake.

It was a sketch of a cartoon character with devil horns, pie-cut eyes, a grin, and a little bow tie.

"Ooh!" the girl exclaimed. "He's so cute! I love him so much!" Her eyes flew to the word at the top. "'Bendy?' What does that mean?"

"That's his name," the man explained. "Bendy, the little devil darlin.'"

"Bendy," she echoed affectionately, not taking her eyes off the page. "That's perfect. I'll bet this will be your best movie yet."

The man knelt down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "I hope so," he said, "because I'm making it for you, my darling little princess."

* * *

The girl blinked. She took a moment to process the memory that had been triggered so suddenly. This place was her father's animation studio. She had a father- one who created cartoons, and who'd designed one for her.

He'd made Bendy for his daughter.

Her hands shook as they clutched the paper in her hands. This sketch and the memory that came with it were all that she had of her life, of herself, of who she was. Just the grinning face of a cartoon devil and a name that wasn't even her own.

She felt a tear pricking at the corner of her eye, which she quickly wiped away with the finger of her glove. In doing so, though, she accidentally got a little bit of ink on her face. Trying to wipe it off would just result in making it worse, so she ignored it. Instead, she resolved to look for a way out. She wouldn't allow herself to be trapped down here forever. After all, staying in this tiny little room certainly wouldn't get her any more answers.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! This is my first story on this account, but I've posted other fanfictions in the past and have a long history of writing. I haven't published anything in a while, but I loved playing Bendy and the Ink Machine so much that I wanted to put a little something together. By my standards, this chapter is a bit on the shorter side, which I was okay with because it's the first one and it made sense to end it where it did. Future chapters will be longer.**

 **I'm thinking that the fanfic will be at least 5 chapters long. I'll update one more time in about a week or so, then I'll wait for chapter 3 of BATIM to come out before continuing the story. I want it to use aspects of the original game and capture the eerie, suspenseful feel of it, but I also want it to diverge enough to be unique and interesting. It won't be any fun if it's the exact same story!**

 **Anyway, stay tuned for more!**

 **\- Beth**


	2. Chapter 2

The animation studio was almost silent, except for the sound of ink dripping from the ceiling and splashing quietly into a puddle on the ground below. Then there was the occasional creak of the floorboards from somewhere above her. It looked, felt, and sounded completely abandoned. The eerie stillness set the already confused girl on edge.

There was a mirror tucked into a drawer on the side of the desk. She hadn't noticed the drawer at first because it blended in, especially in the dim lighting of the room. The mirror was small enough for her to hold in her hands but big enough to see her whole face through its surface. There were a few spots of dried ink stuck to it that she couldn't seem to scrape off. She held the mirror at eye level, taking a look at herself for the first time.

Her shoulder-length black hair was tangled and disheveled, with pieces of dried ink caught in the strands. Her porcelain face was incredibly pale. Her storm grey eyes were pretty, but heavy with exhaustion. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

It was almost haunting, this first glimpse of herself that she saw through the ink-stained surface of the tiny mirror.

With a heavy sigh, she returned the mirror to the drawer. She did, however, take the Bendy sketch off of the desk and tuck it into her shoe. Then she scanned the room once again. One way or another, she had to get out of here.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate with the dripping and the creaking sounds. The dripping kept the same rhythm, completely unchanging, while the creaking seemed to be growing steadily louder and more frequent. Now that she thought about it, she realized that it seemed to be coming closer.

For a brief moment, she wondered if help was on the way. Maybe someone was here after all? Maybe they were coming to help her?

This hope was short-lived, however, when all of a sudden, the creaking just stopped. The girl waited for a few minutes, hoping to hear it again, but when it didn't come she felt her heart sink a little. She lowered her head, unable to stop the disappointment from washing over her. Maybe she really was completely alone here…

A low hiss immediately brought her back to attention. Her head snapped up and she looked around the room. Nothing seemed to have changed. No one was there. Even so, she called out.

"Hello?"

No answer. Her eyes continued scanning back and forth, wondering if perhaps someone was hiding. It wasn't until a minute later that she noticed something: the ink puddle looked different. It was more of a mound than a puddle now.

Her brows furrowing in curiosity, the girl slowly approached it. She knelt down and peered closer. Her hand reached out to touch it, but just as her fingers were a mere inch away…

"AH!"

The girl shrieked in surprise, leaping to her feet and backing away quickly as a figure rose out of the ink. It appeared somewhat humanoid, or at least it was shaped like the top half of a human, but was completely covered in ink. In fact, the girl was fairly certain that it _was_ ink.

Her eyes darted back and forth and she whirled around, trying desperately to think. The creature's arms were flailing, and it was moving slowly towards her.

She had to get away.

As she was staring around the room, her eyes settled on the blocked doorway. She peered forward to try and get a glimpse through the boards. Perhaps she could move them and escape through there.

She hurried past the creature, dodging swiftly as it took a swing at her leg. She darted to the other side of the room, making a beeline for the doorway. Experimentally, she tugged on the board closest to her, which was slanted and stuck between a few others. She had to pull pretty hard, but she managed to yank it out. She quickly took a step back as a few of the wooden planks that the first one was supporting came tumbling down.

It was a good start, but there was still not quite enough space for her to get through. She looked over her shoulder to see the creature steadily moving closer. Panicking now, she quickly took hold of another piece and pulled as hard as she could. This one wouldn't budge. She tried another one. When it tumbled down, she grabbed another. The third board was stubborn; it was wedged tightly and didn't want to move.

"Come _on,_ " the girl growled, bracing her feet against another piece of wood and pulling with all of her might. Finally, and not a moment too soon, the board came free. She fell backwards with a startled cry. Picking herself up, she carefully but quickly stuck her upper body through the opening she'd created and squeezed herself through.

But she cursed when she felt something cool and wet take hold of her ankle as she was almost all the way through. She yanked hard, but couldn't free her leg. Without thinking, she kicked out blindly behind her with her other leg. The result was a breathy, almost demonic shriek. The creature released her leg, and she slipped all the way through the hole to freedom. She quickly got to her feet and backed away from the doorway, but already the creature seemed to be melting back into a puddle. Clearly, it had no intention of following her.

She slumped against the nearest wall, breathing heavily. A living, moving blob of ink was bad enough, but one that chased her was even worse. She hoped desperately that she wouldn't encounter anything like that again.

After taking a minute to collect herself, she pressed on.

As she rounded the corner, there was a loud _splash_ and her foot sank a little into the ground. She realized with a groan that she was submerged to her ankles in ink. She did her best to move quickly through the hallway, but it was slow going. The black goop was incredibly thick

Eventually, she came to the end of the hallway. She was relieved to step out of the ink flood, but less thrilled about the fact that she was now tracking ink behind her as she walked, leaving a trail of black puddles and footprints.

From there, it was a bit of a journey through a series of confusing hallways that all looked the same. She got turned around many times, and twice she ended up back where she started. Maybe the memory loss was partly to blame, but she suspected that she was just naturally bad with directions.

Finally, she came to a real room. It had the words "Music Recital Hall" printed above the entrance. She observed a place that appeared to be some kind of band room, with seats, music stands, and instruments huddled together on one side. She noticed a violin sitting on one of the seats and wandered over to it. She touched it gently- of course, she didn't have any memory of playing a violin, but she remembered very clearly what it sounded like. In fact, she remembered what all of the instruments in the room sounded like- the drum, the bass, the piano, even the banjo. She suspected that she heard a lot of music at one point in her life, possibly in this very room.

After lingering by the violin for a few seconds longer, she turned away and was about to look for another exit when she froze. A figure had appeared in the middle of the room. It was a black, inky form dressed in only pants with suspenders, standing with its back to her. It was somewhat humanoid, as if a very sickly person were covered in ink.

Then it spoke in a voice that was masculine and a bit raspy.

"Well, well. Look who it is. A familiar face."

The girl stood facing the inky figure. She hesitated, not quite sure what to say. This was the first living thing she'd encountered since she found herself here. And even though he seemed to be a monster made of ink, he spoke like a regular person.

Before she had the chance to find her words, the figure spoke again. "It's been a long time. I know I've seen you somewhere before, but where…?"

She frowned in confusion. She certainly didn't remember him, but then again she didn't remember anything. She very well could have known this… ink person at some point in her life. But what should she say to him now? Was it wise to admit that she'd forgotten who she was? She had no way of knowing for sure, but her instincts were telling her that this man wasn't trustworthy.

"Ah yes, it's all coming back to me now," he said finally. "You were always running around the studio. Yelling, pouting, stomping your feet- pretty much whatever would get you attention. That was always a nuisance. But none of us could do anything about it. After all, your daddy was the one who signed our paychecks."

The mention of her father got her attention. She managed to find her words. "Who are you?"

Slowly, the figure's head turned. The girl saw that he was wearing a mask. It was Bendy's face, but the mask was scratched and splattered with ink.

"Hm…" He hummed in thought. He took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of her. She tried her best to keep her gaze hard and her hands from trembling, but she found that she was unable to look directly at him.

"You're not a tiny child anymore. You've grown, but not that much." He leaned down and reached out a hand. An inky finger lifted her chin and tilted it upward slightly. "You can't be older than 18, 19 years old."

The girl made a "tch" sound and pulled her head away, taking a step back. "Don't touch me."

"Find me repulsive, do you?" the voice leered. "At least I won't look this way for much longer… _little princess._ "

She immediately tensed up. Something about the way he said the nickname set her on edge. And her father had called her the same thing. She could remember that clearly: when he'd told her that he'd made Bendy for her, he said "my darling little princess."

"I'll ask you one more time," the girl said, surprised at how firm and steady her voice sounded. "What is your name?"

"You mean you don't recognize my voice?" came the reply. "How disappointing of you. If only you weren't so self-absorbed, maybe you could figure it out."

 _If only you weren't so self-absorbed…_

The girl tensed. Out of nowhere, she felt a sudden moment of deja-vu. She thought hard, desperate to recall where she'd heard that voice before.

The ink figure studied her curiously. "I hate to admit it," he said finally, "but as much as I've always disliked you, you are… quite astonishing."

She blinked. "Why?"

His voice shifted, somehow sounding more ominous. "After all of this time," he replied, "you're still here. You, the one he finally got right. Imagine that."

She stared at him as if he'd sprouted another head. "What are you talking about? Explain yourself."

But he was already continuing. "I'm afraid I've been talking for far too long. While we stall, he waits. I must not keep him waiting any longer."

He was quiet for a few moments. "I'm afraid I have to say… good night."

The girl didn't quite understand what he meant, but as he turned away from her and started to walking the opposite direction, her immediate thought was that he was about to leave. Without thinking, she called out, "Wait! Who is my father?"

The figure immediately stopped moving and turned around slowly. There was a pause. Then he gave a sinister chuckle.

The girl could sense that she was in danger. She didn't have to know who this strange ink person was to know that he absolutely did not have good intentions. She'd allowed her curiosity to hold her in place up until this point, but finally she gave into her instincts.

She turned around and ran.

She could hear him running after her. Because of the ink, his footsteps sounded a bit like someone running in the rain. She was afraid to look behind her and see how close he was.

She dashed out of the music recital room and down a hallway immediately to her right. She dared not stop moving, so she ran all the way to the end and then took a left. She emerged into a somewhat larger room, with a sign that read "Music Department."

She slowed down a little, unsure of where to go from here, but in that moment a hand grabbed her and pulled her through another doorway, into a very small and cramped room..

The girl stifled a surprised shriek. "Who are you?" she demanded. Just then, a hand was slapped over her mouth. She couldn't see who this person was, but all of a sudden she heard footsteps approaching. Left without much of a choice, she held completely still and didn't make a peep.

She heard the footsteps grow louder. They were slow and deliberate, as if he knew she was hiding somewhere nearby and wanted her to hear him searching.

After a few agonizingly long minutes, she heard him wander off down a different hallway. The hand covering her mouth was removed after waiting in silence for another minute or so. She whirled around, ready to confront whoever had dragged her through that doorway…

…but no one was there.

The girl clenched her hands into fists, refraining from yelling out in frustration. The last thing she needed was that masked ink monster returning.

But she was just about fed up with all of these mysteries. She was ready for some real answers.

Cautiously, she peered through the doorway into the large room with the music department sign. Finding it empty, she emerged. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and came to rest on a section of the wall to her right. The first thing she noticed was the writing on the wall. Large letters hand written in what appeared to be ink formed a message that read:

 _"He will set us free."_

She shivered. She couldn't be 100% sure, but she'd be willing to bet that the masked ink man had written that. He'd mentioned that he "must not keep him waiting any longer."

She couldn't stare at the ink message for much longer without feeling incredibly creeped out, so she turned away from it and headed off to explore a different part of the room.

Looking around, she noted a large cutout figure leaning against the wall. She recognized it immediately as Bendy. Glancing around the room, she also noticed multiple posters hanging from the walls. They said things like, "Little Devil Darlin,'" "The Dancing Devil," and "Bendy in Train Trouble." They all featured some manner of artwork relating to the cartoon devil from the sketch. So clearly, Bendy was the biggest cartoon that the animation studio was working on.

She bent down and reached into her shoe, pulling out the little piece of paper she'd tucked away. Her father's Bendy sketch. Surprisingly, it had survived the ink-flooded hallway.

The girl stared at the sketch for a minute. Her mind wandered as she replayed the only memory from her past over again in her head. There were still so many things she didn't know, and her encounter with the masked ink man had given her more questions than answers.

After a few more moments, she slipped the paper back into her shoe. It was time to press on.

She noticed a set of stairs tucked around a corner, and was about to head up when she stopped. Faintly, she could make out something that resembled footsteps. She could also hear creaking, as if the ground were about to give out with every step.

Fearing that it may be the sound of the ink man returning, the girl waited in silence for a few terrifying minutes. Slowly, she peered over her shoulder at the rest of the room, but it remained empty.

Relaxing a little, she continued making her way up the stairs. She emerged in a small booth with a projector facing outward into a larger room down below. She realized with a start that it was the music recital room. So she must not have ran as far as she think she did through those hallways. Either that or she made some sort of loop around the place.

She tensed up immediately when she noticed something. There was a Bendy cutout standing in the room below her that hadn't been there before.

She stared at it for a moment, then angled her gaze downward at the projector. She examined the side, where there was a switch. But just as she was about to turn it on, she caught sight of something sitting right next to it: a cassette tape. She didn't really expect it to work, but even so, she experimentally pressed _play._

To her surprise, a voice recording rang out.

 _"Every day the same strange thing happens. I'l be up here in my booth, the band will be swinging, and suddenly Sammy Lawrence just comes marching in and shuts the whole thing down. Tell us all…"_

But she was tuning the rest of the recording out at this point.

The music department. Sammy Lawrence. Sammy was the musical director.

And it was Sammy's voice that she'd heard behind that mask, coming out of that ink-covered body.

* * *

The bright-eyed child was giggling and laughing, clapping in time to the music. Everyone was more cheerful than usual on this particular day. They were going over the same piece that they'd been working on for weeks now… whatever it was. She could remember the tune, but not the title of the song.

The musicians, like her father in the previous memory she recalled, were undefined and sketch-like. The room, however, was crystal clear: it was the music recital hall.

"You guys sound great!" the small girl exclaimed. "Please keep going!"

"Our pleasure, little lady," the banjo player replied with a grin. "Two, three, fou-"

The door banged open. The figure in the doorway, while not completely clear, was a little less blurry than the others. She could tell that he had longish hair, he wore suspenders, and his browns were furrowed in a sort of grimace.

"What's going on in here?"

The music died down almost immediately. "Hey there, Sammy," the violinist muttered. "We were just warming up."

Sammy scoffed. "Everybody out. I need the room."

Murmuring to each other, people began gathering their things and shuffling out the door into the hallway. Sammy barked at them all to hurry up. The little girl, however, stayed right where she was.

He glared at her. "Didn't you hear me?" he demanded. "Go on, get out."

"I'm not going anywhere," she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "You can't just kick people out whenever you feel like it. There's work to be done. You're not the most important person in this studio, Sammy Lawrence."

Sammy let out a frustrated sigh. "Kid, I'd smack you for that if I were your dad. But your actual dad will fire me if I'm not nice to you… unfortunately. Now get out of here right now, or I'll carry you out myself."

"Sammy?" Both Sammy and the girl jumped, startled, and turned towards the doorway. Someone was leaning against the frame, and although she still couldn't remember what she looked like, she knew who it was. Her father.

"Papa," the girl whined, "Sammy's being a big old meanie."

Her father merely chuckled. "Don't I know it, little princess. He's always a big old meanie."

Sammy laughed a little, but it was heavily laced with sarcasm. "I, erm… I just needed the room to myself for a few minutes. I won't be long. I, um, need silence to help me write my next song, and I need to be in here to listen to how a few of the instruments sound together."

The girl's father considered this. Finally, he shrugged and nodded. "Sure, whatever you need." He motioned his daughter over, and she practically crossed the floor in one step. She stood close to him, shooting Sammy a nasty look.

"Oh hey Sammy, you gotta try this new bacon soup recipe I found the other day," his boss said over his shoulder. "Just delicious. I can't believe it was hiding from me all these years."

Sammy shot him a smile that looked somewhat forced. "Sure. Sounds great."

"Oh, and take a look at that ink pump, will you? My buddy Vince complained the other day that it was making weird noises." Her father grinned over his shoulder. "Well, I'll be off now. Lots to do. Have fun, Sammy."

The girl followed closely behind him as he exited the music recital hall. But as they were leaving, she heard Sammy mutter, "If only you weren't so self-absorbed, you might notice that _I'm not the goddamn janitor._ "

* * *

She blinked, drifting out of her daze and back into reality. She still stood alone in the dark booth, staring blankly at the cassette tape. The recording had stopped playing and the room had fallen back into silence.

So Sammy wasn't her father's biggest fan. Or hers, for that matter.

 _Well, think about it. A spoiled child prancing around the studio like she owns the place? Of course Sammy Lawrence, who worked so hard writing songs and cleaning up after his boss's messes, would hate having you around._

She frowned. The voice was faint, almost muffled. It seemed to be coming from the projector.

She reached for the button on the side that she'd seen earlier and pressed it. Immediately, the projector hummed to life. It flashed onto the screen on the opposite wall, lighting it up. After a moment, a black and white figure appeared. Her eyes widened as she immediately recognized the devil horns, grinning face, and pie-cut eyes.

"Bendy," she muttered to herself.

 _"That's right!"_

She did a double take. Did the moving picture on the screen just answer her?

"Uh…" She searched for her words. "Hello?"

 _"Hi. It's been a while. You were out like a light."_

"How are you talking?" she demanded. "You're not real."

 _"Yes I am. Thanks to-"_ He was interrupted by the sound of static, and his image blurred for a split second.

"Thanks to who?" she prompted.

 _"You've got a little bit of a problem with Sammy running around here. He'll cause trouble, you know. He doesn't like you. And he's got an agenda."_

She thought for a moment. It was a shot in the dark, but… "Bendy, can you point me to a way out of here?"

The little devil chuckled. _"It's not going to be that easy."_

"Please," she said desperately. "I don't remember who I am or anything from my past. I don't know where I am. I've been chased all over the place by ink people. I think I'm going crazy."

 _"Aw… Don't look so down. You have friends here, you know."_

"Like who?"

 _"Me, of course. We've been friends for so long."_

"But how…" She faltered. "I mean, you're a cartoon. You're not a real person."

 _"But you can hear me, can't you?"_

"How is that possible?"

 _"Because we're both-"_ Once again, the _s_ tatic cut him off. The little voice kept going, but it was impossible to make out.

"What? We're both what?" she asked desperately. Unfortunately, at that moment Bendy's image began to flicker. Then the projector shut itself off, and the room once again fell into silence.


End file.
